


Take These Broken Wings and Learn to Fly

by iktwabrokenbone (apiculteur)



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe, Depression, M/M, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apiculteur/pseuds/iktwabrokenbone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler looked in the mirror, readying himself to listen to the clicks of the mechanical muscles, when he realised the face he saw was not his own. Not like he usually meant, when he saw a miserable boy whose eyes weren't quite able to focus, seeing through himself and trying to remember what he had been like when he wasn't drowning. He meant that it was another person, with thinner eyebrows, bright purple hair and lips, gauges in their ears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take These Broken Wings and Learn to Fly

**Author's Note:**

> i s2g the fics i actually plan out and want to be long end up being like 1k then i write down one sentence of planning for this and its the longest fic ive written for the 21p fandom. and i finished it in 3 days as well??? and checked it over??? (sorry that i never check things over. my writing must have so many mistakes.)
> 
> also, if ur worried about the blood thing, theres some more info in the end notes, so skip to them.
> 
> title from blackbird by the beatles

Life was draining. Tyler didn't have much of a focus apart from music and basketball, so he just tried to put everything he had into those two things. He didn't really have friends- one of the main reasons he didn't like being homeschooled- and he honestly couldn't think of anything that made him happy apart from those two things. Well, his mom, but he couldn't talk to her for very long- she asked him about his friends, and how his life was going, and it was difficult to answer those questions without lying or upsetting her.

So he threw himself into basketball and music, even when he felt whatever interest he had once had in basketball slip away. He was becoming a hollow husk painted with fake smiles. He sometimes imagined the sound of machinery ticking away inside him, the clockwork pulling the corners of his mouth up, forcing his eyes to crinkle and make it seem more real.

Life wasn't bad, but it was grey. He couldn't help but think of dim days, light drizzle, leaves too wet to make a satisfying crunching sound. His mom told him he should go outside more, but going out, especially on sunny days, only made him feel worse. People all around him were happy, and he wanted so much to feel that, but he was just numb all the way down to his core. He shied away from going outside, became more intense about basketball, wrote more music, sang and played piano and spoke quickly over what he had made so he could get the words out fast enough for him not to lose confidence.

His mom was getting concerned, he could tell, but he just practiced his smiles more, occasionally told her he was going out with friends, but instead wandering around aimlessly, or sitting under a tree and either thinking or letting his mind go blank until he had been gone long enough for her to believe he had been socialising. He didn't like lying to her, but he liked her being worried even less, and that would be her first reaction if he shut himself inside all the time. He could just ask someone if they wanted to hang out, but it pained him to even think about keeping up the charade even longer, figuring out when he was supposed to laugh or show sympathy, pretend to feel.

Tyler looked in the mirror, readying himself to listen to the clicks of the mechanical muscles, when he realised the face he saw was not his own. Not like he usually meant, when he saw a miserable boy whose eyes weren't quite able to focus, seeing through himself and trying to remember what he had been like when he wasn't drowning. He meant that it was another person, with thinner eyebrows, bright purple hair and lips, gauges in their ears. Tyler breathed deep, rubbed a hand across his lips to see if it would smudge the makeup.

His hand came back clean, and the person in the mirror hadn't moved their hand anyway. They were backing away slowly, bumping into the bed behind them- a different bed, with different covers, on a different carpet, in front of different walls. Tyler was trying not to hyperventilate, trying not to think about the fact that this was the most he had felt in almost a year, and it was fear, overwhelming fear and unstoppable curiosity.

The person in the mirror stared at him, half sat on their bed and leaning away from him. He could see their chest rise and fall- they weren't wearing a shirt, but Tyler was pretty sure they were in their own bedroom, so he couldn't blame them. Gradually, after about thirty seconds of staring, only broken by occasional blinking, the person in the mirror began to slow their breathing, cautiously straightening up. A large part of Tyler wanted to scramble further back, but they seemed just as terrified as him. It was unlikely they intended him any harm. He wasn't even sure if it was possible through a mirror.

The person in the mirror seemed to be testing that theory, gently pressing a hand to their side of the mirror. It looked like there was glass separating them, instead of- well, maybe it wasn't a mirror separating them, actually. Some sort of portal? It could be Tyler's imagination for all he knew.

Either way, the person retracted their hand, somewhere between relieved and confused. Tyler swallowed deeply. He had nothing to lose, so he spoke. "Hey?" he asked.

They jumped back slightly, and Tyler noticed he could hear the soft sound of their feet against the floor when their took a step back. "I can hear you," they said, and Tyler had to resist the urge not to react exactly as the person on the other side of the mirror had.

Tyler allowed himself to sit on the bed instead of just cowering back in fear, told himself to relax. He hadn't thought he even cared enough to be scared, but maybe it was just the idea that he might be losing his sanity, or knowing that the few certainties he had been able to cling onto were no longer there.

He couldn't do much but nod blankly. They could hear each other, see each other, through a mirror. What was he really supposed to do?

"Uh. What's your name?" he asked, and the person in the mirror smiled, a wide smile with crinkled eyes, accompanied by a laugh. It was a smile Tyler couldn't help but return, so genuine, no strings pulling at their lips awkwardly, just a natural reaction they couldn't seem to control, or didn't want to control.

"I'm Josh."

"Tyler," he said, then paused, because he remembered that Josh wasn't here. "Where are you?"

Josh seemed to realise that, because they looked disappointed when they said, "Canada. My family moved here a couple weeks ago. That's why there's boxes." Tyler looked at their room, and noticed cardboard boxes pushed into corners, the lack of decoration. There were a few things on their bedside table- a clock, a snow globe, and a few pieces of paper- and a drum kit squashed into the corner of their room, but otherwise, the walls were bare, and it seemed a bit too tidy, uncomfortably so.

Tyler couldn't help the feeling in his stomach, a fluttering falling feeling, disappointment settling in. "Oh," he said. "Well, that's not that far from Ohio?"

"West Canada." They looked a bit guilty as they told him, and equally as disheartened as Tyler. The two of them had met through a mirror, of all things, there had to be some element of _fate_  or _destiny_ there. It seemed unfair that they could communicate through a mirror but it was unlikely they would ever meet in real life, and if they did, they would probably have to part again.

"Oh." Somewhere downstairs, Tyler's mom was shouting for him, telling him dinner was ready. He could tell from the slightly panicked look on Josh's face that they had heard. "Coming, mom!"

He didn't move for a few moments. "Do you think it'll stay?" Josh asked him, and Tyler honestly wasn't sure.

"I don't know." He had to stop himself from gnawing on his lip- his mom always told him off for that. "You watch it. I won't be long."

Josh nodded. There was no guarantee it wouldn't go away at any time, but something about watching it gave a false sense of security.

***

Tyler tried to not jiggle his knee under the table as he ate his lunch as quickly as possible, but he was excited and nervous and scared. He didn't know what was happening or how- had hardly really questioned it because it was so unexplainable- but he didn't want it to be taken away from him, especially when he had hardly spoken to Josh. When Josh was making him feel again, and even though he knew the depression, the numbness and hollowness, wasn't gone, Josh was pushing it away, temporarily chasing it off to be replaced by their smiles and mystery.

Tyler loved the mystery about Josh, but he knew he would like it even more when he knew about Josh, could exchange words with a single look. Maybe it was silly of him, but he wanted to become friends with Josh. Wanted to see more of their sunny smiles, hear them playing that drum kit in the corner of their room.

"Are you okay, Tyler?" his mom asked, and he nodded quickly.

"I'm fine, mom. Why?" She hadn't noticed when he actually wasn't fine- which was understandable, since he tried so hard to hide it- so it seemed weird that she she would get worried when he felt was actually feeling enthusiastic about something other than music.

"You're just acting different," she said, then quickly clarified, "Not in a bad way."

"I've just started talking to this person," Tyler shrugged, which wasn't a lie. "They're actually waiting for me right now..." He didn't say anything else, just looked purposefully at his plate, then at his mom.

"You're excused," she said, smiling at him when he instantly stood up. "Have fun talking to them."

There was no hidden meaning behind it, no implication that she thought he and Josh were dating, or wanted to date, just genuine happiness that her son was happy. He kissed her cheek before he ran away to return to Josh.

***

Josh had rubbed off their lipstick by the time Tyler got back to them, probably from nervously licking or biting at their lips. They stood up straight when they saw Tyler, giving him a relieved grin. "Hey, Tyler," they said.

"Hey," Tyler replied, and he would be lying if he said he hadn't been worried too. "Your lipstick rubbed off."

At that, Josh covered their lips and turned away their head. "Frick," they said, under their breath, then looked bak up at Tyler. He probably looked confused, seeing how Josh was acting. Josh took their hand away from their lips, looking like they had to force theirself to do that. "You- you don't mind?"

Tyler smiled and shook his head. "It's cool, bro," he said.

They seemed to be struggling far more to make theirself say the next thing, so Tyler tried to smile at them encouragingly. "And, if I didn't have a gender?" they asked, and they still hadn't put their shirt on, their shoulders rising and falling to the noticeably sped up rhythm of their breaths.

"Then that's fine too," Tyler said.

Josh smiled at him again. "It's a lot easier to tell people these things through mirrors than face to face," they said, picking up the purple lipstick from the desk and reapplying it.

"You look adorable," Tyler told them, because he was sure some people would say otherwise, but they needed to know they were amazing.

Josh was blushing ever so slightly. "You're pretty cute too," they said.

Tyler sat in front of his bed, looking at Josh mirroring his position on their side of the mirror, and they spoke for hours. He probably should've restrained himself, told Josh he should go to sleep when he had glanced at the time as realised it was one in the morning, but there was that constant worry that Josh wouldn't be there if he left.

***

Tyler woke with a sore neck, and spent a few dull seconds staring at the ceiling and not even bothering to wonder why he had slept sat up on the floor instead of in his bed. It took him a few seconds to remember Josh, try to figure out whether they had been real or not.

Tyler's breath caught in his throat, and he continued to stare at the off-white ceiling, covered in little white stars that would be glowing brightly if his curtains were closed. Instead, light was streaming through the window, and his ceiling was hardly interesting enough to justify him staring for any longer than a few seconds, if that.

He was scared to look away though, to find out if Josh was still there or not. He had a rabbit's heart and bated breath, but it returned to normal human standards when he realised that _Josh was there_ , Josh was there and probably real and not a hallucination.

They were still asleep, looking quite happy, although their neck was at an awkward angle and they couldn't possibly be warm in only some sweatpants. Briefly, Tyler debated whether he should wake up Josh, but then decided that they might not get back to sleep if Tyler did that, and Tyler would have to get changed in front of them.

He put on some fresh clothes, and spent a couple minutes trying to find a pen and some paper to leave a note. In the end, he used the back of an old receipt, and tried to write as legibly as possible, "have a good morning. im doing the homeschooling thing. see you later." He paused in capping the pen, and huffed at himself as he added a couple kisses to the end of the note. It wouldn't hurt, and it was always more awkward working out when in the relationship it was appropriate to begin putting kisses, if ever, than to have the other assume that you always put kisses at the end.

Anyway, they were almost adults- he assumed Josh was around his age, sixteen or so- and they could handle a couple kisses, and if not, they would probably feel comfortable gently asking Tyler to stop.

"Whatever," Tyler muttered. He had more important things to do that think in great depth about the significance of four little lines- like, for instance, his homeschooling.

He turned to the mirror to practice the clicking smiles, but he ended up staring into Josh's room instead. He sighed, tried to remember the way his muscles tensed when he was smiling genuinely, when he had smiled at Josh or his mom or his sister. He could tell he wasn't quite getting it right. He was still just a hollow chested tin man, couldn't force himself to feel the happiness he had felt talking to Josh yesterday, or regularly before the grey mist had settled in.

A part of him was upset, had allowed himself to hope that Josh was the end of his depression, but that had been a silly idea from the start. Depression didn't end with one person he had connected with through his bedroom mirror (last night, or maybe very early that morning, they had figured out that their bedroom mirrors were the only mirrors that had a connection to anywhere else).

***

He went straight to his room after his mom let him go, which was what he would usually do, but he actually had something to look forward to in his room now. He had forgotten that there was no guarantee that the mirror-portal, whatever it was, would still be there, or that Josh would be in their room. He tried not to be too disappointed when he looked into Josh's empty room through the mirror, but he wasn't too successful. When he was alone in his room, it didn't matter that much anyway.

It took him a minute or two of messing around on his keyboard, looking into the mirror every twenty seconds or so, before he noticed the piece of paper on Josh's floor. They must've seen the note and responded, then. Tyler had forgotten all about it.

_i'll have a great morning. i'm at school too. we can talk after. xx_

Tyler smiled at the two little kisses, wishing he could pick up the note. He pressed his hand against the mirror, waiting for some Harry Potter-style transportation. The mirror didn't let him pass through, but it did have some fingerprints on it now. He rubbed them off with his sleeve, sighing slightly. It was still a bit smudged, but he had never kept his mirror particularly clean.

In his pocket, his phone buzzed, almost making him jump. As a general rule, only his family texted him, and that was only to ask if he needed anything from the shops, or to tell him to come back for dinner when he was out on a walk.

He pulled out his phone and opened the message. It was from Mark, who had been pretty much his best friend. They hadn't fallen out or anything, still texted occasionally, but they were becoming fewer and further between, which was probably Tyler's fault. He never really offered much up, because he didn't have much to say. He made music, practiced basketball, got taught at home. There had been some talk of him going to a high school- the same one as Mark- but that hadn't gotten very far, because, honestly, Tyler was scared, and that was about the most interesting thing that had happened to him before he saw Josh in his mirror.

Sometimes, on Tyler's good days, they would hang out together, and Tyler would love it, think to himself that he had to talk to him more, because he was feeling happy, and talking freely with Mark, and Mark didn't seem to mind that Tyler hadn't spoken to him in weeks then suddenly asked if he wanted to hang out- even though it must've interrupted his plans at least once.

He pulled himself out of his mind before he got too lost, decided to actually look at the text. It was friendly and casual, asking if he wanted to hang out sometime with a little smiley face at the end. It wasn't one of Tyler's good days, but it wasn't one of his bad days either.

In the mirror, Tyler could see the door opening to reveal Josh. They smiled at him, and he glanced down at his phone.

"Hey," Josh said.

"Hey." He paused for a bit, running a hand through his hair as he considered Mark's offer. Again, he looked at his phone. The screen had gone dark.

"What are you thinking about?" Josh asked him, pulling off their t-shirt. Tyler wondered if they had some sort of aversion to clothing. Sure, they had only known each other for a day, but Tyler was pretty sure that if it had been anyone else, he would've still seen them in a shirt for more than a minute.

"Just wondering if I should go out with my friend," he said.

"Like dating? Or outside?"

Tyler wrinkled his nose slightly, because Mark was great, but it was weird thinking about dating him. "Outside," he said.

"Well, go if you want to," Josh said, and Tyler shifted slightly where he was sitting on the bed, making the mattress springs squeak.

"I don't know." That had become his go-to when he wasn't quite sure what to say. He did want to go meet with Mark, but this wasn't one of his good days, where it felt like everything was normal. It was a normal day for him, where everything still felt a bit off, and he couldn't think about the future with any sort of hope, but it wasn't terrible. He just didn't want to go meet with Mark, only to have to struggle through the conversations.

"Is your friend an asshole?" Josh asked him, and Tyler tried to raise one eyebrow, which probably ended up just making him look like an idiot.

"No, he's a cool guy. We've been buds for ages," Tyler told them, even though he was confused by the question.

"Then he'll get it if you want to leave," Josh said. "I say go for it, man."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right," he said. Sometimes, he just needed someone to tell him when he was overthinking something, to talk through things with. He stood up, and started to walk towards Josh. He wanted to press a kiss to their cheek, but he remembered the mirror separating them.

"See you, Ty," Josh said, and Tyler blushed at the nickname.

"Bye."

***

He had once again forgotten how amazing Mark was. Tyler was smiling and laughing- or giggling, really- and he felt happy. He told himself that he should go out with Mark more, like he always did after meeting up with Mark. He had more intention now though, and he glared at his future self, because he was pretty sure Tyler from the future would make excuses about why he shouldn't go.

Usually, he looked after himself pretty well, but he fell short when it came to realising that he was not a trouble or a burden for people, that they would understand if he didn't feel up to having conversations, or he suddenly felt like he had to leave.

He hugged Mark before he left, told him that they should hang out more, and he should text Tyler asking him to hang out again soon, because Tyler probably wouldn't take the initiative himself. He didn't say the last part, but he didn't have to, because Mark knew him well enough to know that.

He had forgotten how cool it was to be around someone who knows you that well.

***

It was a couple of weeks later, and Tyler had just gotten back from hanging out with Mark again. Josh had been happy for him when Tyler had told them it had went well, encouraged him to go out more. It was weird being connected to Josh's room through his mirror- of course it was, there was a _portal_  or something in his _mirror_ \- but he was getting used to it. When he woke up from nightmares, Josh would be sitting in front of their mirror, telling him it was alright, it was just a dream, or when he couldn't get to sleep, Josh would talk to him until he drifted off. It was probably messing up their sleeping pattern, since Josh's seemed far more regular than his own, but they said they didn't mind, and it was really difficult to write it off as a lie when they were grinning like that.

Tyler was downstairs, having just walked through the door, and there was a sound of cymbals crashing and the rhythmic banging of a drum. It wasn't deafening, he could still hear his brothers laughing about something in the kitchen, meaning the kit was probably upstairs, but it was still strange. He didn't even know they had a kit. "Mom?" he asked, slightly louder so she would hear him over the drums.

"Oh, you're back!" she said, walking into the sitting room. "How are you, sweetie?"

"Fine," he said, kissing her cheek. "What's with all the noise?"

She looked confused. "What noise?"

He opened his mouth to say, _The drums. The loud noise coming from upstairs_ , but then he remembered about Josh. He had seen a kit in their room, and they must be playing it. He was vaguely worried by the fact that his family couldn't seem to hear it- his worries that it was actually all in his imagination increased, but there wasn't much he could do about that. He just tried to push them out of his mind. "Nothing. Must've just imagined it."

She gave him another funny look, but let it go, didn't push further when he went to see Josh.

Josh didn't notice him when he walked into the room, or when he sat down on his bed, watching them drum away. They had their shirt off, as usual, but their chest was covered in a sheen of sweat now, which wasn't surprising when he saw how into it they were. Tyler was surprised they hadn't yet broken the sticks or the drums themselves. And that their mom hadn't shouted at them for being too loud, as Tyler's mom would probably do.

When they finished whatever song they were drumming along to, they finally looked up, jerking when they saw Tyler in the mirror. "Hey," they said, putting down the sticks and using the t-shirt they must've been wearing earlier to wipe off the sweat, which was kind of gross.

"Hey," Tyler said, grabbing a pillow off his bed so he could sit in front of the mirror without his butt hurting. "You're amazing."

Josh went slightly red, though that might have just been from the drumming. "I practice a lot."

"Dude, we should start a band," Tyler said, grinning at them. "I can do the words and play the piano, and you could play drums."

Josh laughed. "Piano, singing, and drums?"

Okay, so when they said it like that, it did seem like a bit of an odd combination of instruments, but they could make it work. "Yeah. We'd be sick as frick," he said.

"When we meet up, we'll start it up," they said, like it was certain they were going meet one day, and everything would be fine. Tyler wished he could hug them, because when they said things like that, Tyler could almost believe that everything _would_ be okay.

***

For the past few weeks, Tyler had been getting better. He was still depressed, but it was manageable. If he ever thought about the razors in the bathroom, or the busy street a few minutes walk away from his house, he would force himself to stop. Tell himself that there were better things to imagine- like trying (and probably failing) to bake cookies with Josh, or making some stupid video with Mark. Really, he had been doing... pretty fine. Good, even, which didn't sound like all that much, but he had felt so terrible for so long, and now he was allowing himself to get better, no longer shying away from the people and things who would make him happy, make him want to live.

Yeah, his depression hadn't just been because of him cutting himself off from people- it _was_ a mental illness, not just him feeling a bit sad- but he did feel better when he knew people cared. Knew they were there for them if he needed them, but they would back off if that was what he needed. It seemed like it was just going to be a gentle stroll towards getting better.

He should've expected it, really, but he had been allowing himself to hope, which was always a bad start. He had been feeling better though, more peaceful, and he remembered all the walks he had taken to pretend he was getting on fine, that he was talking to people, and it made him want to actually take a walk.

So he left, and not much happened. He walked around through the nearby forest, looked at trees and the pretty bluebells, didn't even think about eating some foxglove when he walked past the white and purple flowers. It was fine, and he was fine, until he saw a bird.

It was a stupid thing, really. There was a dead bird lying on the ground, with its wings spread out strangely, and the ruffled, bloodied feathers around the neck suggested something had killed it. It was wildlife, it happened. But whatever had caught it hadn't even bothered to eat it. It had just caught it, and then left it on the ground.

It was stupid. He was being so stupid, crying over some bird. Yeah, it hadn't been eaten, but it was just a bird. Some other animal would probably come along and eat it later. But he couldn't stop himself from sniffling, getting within a foot of it before crouching down and apologising to it. He didn't know why, and he felt even more like an idiot, wanted to hit himself in the head, because, really, what was he doing?

He used his sleeves to wipe his eyes angrily, then pinched at the bridge of his nose as he started to speed-walk home. He was stuck between not wanting to stay outside and risk seeing more dead animals or having some stranger catch him crying, and going home, and having to try get past his mom without her noticing that he had cried.

Eventually, after pacing up and down a small section of path just next to the entrance to the woods, he decided to go home. The door refused to be quiet when he closed it, so he just tried to run upstairs before his mom saw him and tried to engage him in conversation. He heard her call his name, but he just shouted back something about needing the bathroom, and he heard her laugh.

He went into his bedroom instead, forgetting about Josh. He didn't let himself start to cry again when he got to his room, knowing it would just keep coming and he wouldn't be able to stop, but he knew his eyes must be red, and it would be easy enough to see what he had been doing.

"Ty?" Josh asked him, and he swallowed, wiping the last of the tears away with his already far too damp sleeve. "What happened?"

He laughed bitterly, and it ended up being one of those horrible, wet laughs, the ones people did when they were still recovering from crying. "It's nothing. I'm just being stupid."

Josh tried to walk towards him, bumped into the mirror and made do standing right in front of it, one hand on the glass. "No, it's not. You're not stupid, either. You're amazing and adorable and beautiful," they said firmly, and it was obvious that they were trying to get across just how much they meant it, but Tyler couldn't quite believe him.

"I _am_ being stupid," he said, then sighed. "I mean- I saw a dead bird, it had been killed by, I don't know, a fox or something, and it just- it had just been leave there, not eaten or anything. Like they had just done it for fun, and it got to me. I don't know. I just started crying and I don't know why. I shouldn't be crying about a _bird_."

"No, Tyler, that's fine. Ty- look at me, Tyler," Josh said, and Tyler did, told himself not to cross his arms over his chest all defensively, not to tense his shoulders. "Tyler, you're doing brilliantly. It's hard. It has to be hard, because it's not something that just goes away. You're doing well, you've been smiling and happy, and yeah, you cried over something, but that's what happens. You get upset about things that seem small, and it sucks because you know it isn't a big deal, and you don't want to be upset, but you are. You've had so many good days lately, this is the first bad day in weeks, right?"

Josh paused, so Tyler nodded. The last time had been a week or two before Josh he had started seeing Josh in his mirror.

"You're doing great, Ty. You're allowed to have bad days, to relapse and feel like crap. But don't let this stop you getting better. You've got plenty of time. There's no need to think you have to instantly feel better." Josh smiled a little bit at him, a twitch in the corner of their mouth. "Besides, you look cute when you smile. I love seeing you when you're feeling happy."

Tyler let out a breath, let himself properly relax. Josh was right- of course they were, Tyler couldn't remember them ever being wrong. "Thanks," he whispered.

"No problem."

***

Really, Tyler wasn't all that clumsy. He was just a bit distracted, and his room was messy, so he didn't see the shoe on the ground.

"Watch out, Ty," Josh told him from the other side of the mirror, sitting on their bed and using their sticks to air drum.

Tyler was tripping anyway, falling over the shoe on the ground, and flailing his arms about in a panic. He fell heavily on the mirror, felt himself make contact with it. " _Josh_ , he said, allowed himself to shout because his family was out anyway.

The mirror was falling, and Tyler with it, and they were both lying on the floor. Tyler grunted, looked to see if Josh was still there. He needed Josh to still be there, almost cried with relief when he saw their terrified face.

"Tyler, I was so worried," Josh breathed out, and Tyler just grunted, because he could tell he would be covered in bruises. The mirror was webbed with cracks, but still seemingly working. He climbed off, stood up and lifted the mirror from the ground, stumbled a bit and knocked it when he put too much pressure on his apparently injured leg.

The mirror gave up, pieces falling down to the floor, large shards and small pieces no larger than a pebble. It would be anticlimactic, Tyler thought, to survive that big scene with all the clattering and shouts, only for the mirror to break in a far less interesting stumble, but Tyler was too busy feeling utter despair.

The pieces were reflecting a white ceiling, so he couldn't tell if they were working or not. He picked up the largest shard he could find, held it up to his face. A terrified, pale face stared back at him, his own face, and he let out a dry sob, fell to his knees. He could fix this. This was fine, he could fix this. He just needed some... glue.

He tried to push the pieces together into the shape of a mirror, one hand getting cut on the sharp shards, the other with the pebble-like pieces digging into the palm as he tried to support himself with it. He was crying, crying like some hopeless child who lost his mom in a mall, but there wasn't any announcement system to help him find Josh again.

Josh was gone, and that hurt so, so much more than the pieces of glass leaving lacerations on his hands. He wasn't quite out of it enough to wipe his eyes when he had glass stuck in his palms, so he just sat there, letting his tears pool up and spill down his cheeks.

One of them landed on a piece of mirror, and he watched it, intent and hopeful. In the movies, this would be the moment, the happy bit after the sad scene, where the tears made the mirror magically fix itself, and Josh would look up at him with their own clouded eyes, face lighting up when they him, maybe even walk through the mirror and hug him.

Alas, this was not a movie. This was real life, and his carpet had blood stains that he would probably feel guilty about any other time, but instead he just stared at them, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing did. He sat there, tears on his cheeks, glass cutting his hands and knees, until his mom came through the door, gasping at the state he was in.

He could faintly hear her saying things, but he didn't listen. Josh was gone, and whilst Tyler wasn't completely dependent on Josh, they helped. They made him sure it was all going to be okay, understood him, and Josh wasn't dead and gone, sure, but they had no way of communicating other than through the mirror. He hadn't thought this far ahead, hadn't planned for a broken mirror.

His mom was telling him it was going to be okay, but he was trembling as he sat on the edge of the bath, and sobs still shook his body occasionally. His mom seemed to think it was her pulling the glass out of his hand that was making him cry. He didn't bother to correct her.

***

Mark was forcing him out. Apparently, it wasn't healthy to be shut up inside all the time, doing nothing- "Music doesn't count as doing something. You need to talk to people." He didn't want to, and Mark was fully aware of that, so he had bargained.

"Fine, we'll just go to my house, but my friend will be there," Mark told him, and Tyler knew it was for his own good, but he was still reluctant and miserable and slightly numb. "Hey, you'll like them. They're cool."

Tyler nodded, and went along with him, mainly because Mark had let Tyler cry on his shoulder with no explanation for the last few weeks.

They sat around chatting for about half an hour before Mark's mystery friend knocked on the door. Tyler waited in the sitting room for him to return with his friend.

There was a sharp intake of breath, but Tyler didn't bother looking up. "Tyler, this is Josh. Josh, Tyler," he said, and that's when Tyler looked up.

Their hair was pink, and so was their lipstick, and they were absolutely beautiful. "Josh?"

"Did your mirror smash recently?"

"Yeah."

"So did mine."

Josh grinned, and the responding smile came naturally to Tyler. It must've be fate, or destiny, or something like that giving them a helping hand. Whoever or whatever it was, he needed to send them at least fifteen fruit baskets. He could finally feel Josh's arms clinging around him in a hug, and it was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> clarification about the blood warning: non of it is very graphic, but theres a dead bird, and also someone accidentally cutting their hands and knees, and then having glass pulled out of their hands.
> 
> thank u so much for reading this!!! yall can check out my writing blog [here](http://iktwabrokenbone.tumblr.com/ask) btw, feel free to drop a prompt, as always.


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